Book Lover, The (21 page)

The first glass went down quickly and she got up, puttered through the house, poured water into Sam’s empty bowl. The dog didn’t eat, though, just sat there staring at her. She poured a second glass of wine, then went out and sat on the back porch. It was after nine, but there was still light in the sky, although a dampness had settled and the air was chilly for late June.

She stared across the yard at the patch of garden she’d once tried so hard to nurture. Over the years she’d planted tomatoes and peas and even leaf lettuce, but something or other always wore down her efforts. The hunger of the rabbit that lived under her shed. The slugs that seemed to gnaw everything in sight, even her marigolds, the simplest of flowers that anyone could grow.

No, Ruth had never been much of a gardener. Sipping her wine, she thought, she hadn’t been much of a cook, either. Or a wife. She was a decent mother. Or a lucky one. Her kids had turned out fine, although Colin was still a worry. And probably would be for the rest of her days. Or his. No, she wouldn’t think that way.

There was just one thing she was good at, or so she told herself. Books.

She took the last sip, went into the house, grabbed her purse and car keys and drove to Main Street, where now, late at night, there was plenty of parking. She got out and stood in front of her store. The Book Lover.

She unlocked the front door and turned on just the counter light, so that the store was dimly illuminated, with the glow of the window display and just that small fixture. She looked around and inhaled deeply. This was her world, her passion. This store had been the crux of her life for so many years, that not having it would be like saying tomorrow the earth would revolve around something entirely different. Mars, perhaps. This had replaced all of the love she’d had to lock inside herself because there was no man to give it to.

Slowly she walked past the shelves, the children’s section, her favorite, with the colorful covers, and the old classics.
Alice Through the Looking Glass, Where The Wild Things Are,
and Colin’s favorite,
Drummer Hoff.
There was Plath, and Faulkner, Shreve and Hoffman, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald, her favorite. The magic of all these worlds, of Gatsby and Santiago and all of the people who’d spurred the imaginations of countless readers who walked through her door. And she’d been part of that world. Sharing her books. Living through her books.

Maybe her husband had been right. Maybe she couldn’t love him because he was real. Maybe what she really wanted couldn’t ever exist. Like her fantasy with Thomas.

In the back of the store, she sank to the floor, her back resting against the section of
The Hobbit
and
Narnia
and the new fantasies, all of the worlds she’d longed for once as a girl. But what was wrong with the real world? Why had she chosen to shut herself away here? What was she afraid of?

She closed her eyes, the room spinning, her body not used to two full glasses of wine. She felt the wetness on her cheeks. She wasn’t afraid of Thomas, no matter what he’d done. Maybe she was a fool, but she believed him. She could have asked him to stay longer. This night could have ended differently. But she knew, too, that too many years had gone by. The fantasies she’d allowed herself to visit again and again were just that. Fantasies, like in those books.

She was a widow who’d not been with a man in decades. Maybe in books such things were possible, but this was real life. And for Ruth Hardaway, such romantic notions were simply too late. There was only one love for her. One thing she was capable of sharing.

Books.

                            
20

D
RIVING TO THE RAPTOR CENTER THAT AFTERNOON was different from the last time, when Lucy had felt so awkward with Colin. This time they chatted the whole way, partly because she kept asking so many questions.

“A raptor is any bird of prey,” he explained as he drove. “Hawks, eagles, owls, falcons, anything with a hooked beak and taloned feet.”

“But they also rescue regular birds at the Center, right?”

“Yes, any bird will be cared for, and hopefully rehabilitated and sent back out into the wild.”

The cool morning rain had stopped, but low clouds still obscured the mountains as they headed southwest through Sussex County into Warren County.

“What about the birds I saw in the aviaries?”

“Those are birds that are either unreleasable, which means they’re used for display to educate, or they’re still awaiting release. Right now it’s our busy season, spring through summer, what with mating and feeding and so many fledglings leaving the nest.”

He pulled over suddenly and turned to her. “Hey, since you’ve never actually been in the Delaware Water Gap National Park, how about a quick side trip? It’s one of the best places on the east coast to see birds in the wild.”

“I’d love to. But don’t you have to be at the Center?”

“Not any particular time today.”

A few miles ahead he turned right toward the Delaware river, driving for another twenty minutes until she saw a sign that read Worthington State Forest, which he explained was part of the National Park. They followed a blacktop road that narrowed to one lane, and soon they were sitting for a very long time at a stop light in a most unlikely place. They were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods. Not a car came through from the other side, but Colin explained that this was where they entered the heart of the forest and had to go through a tricky stretch that was one car wide. Sure enough, they finally went through the light and the road became gravel as the woods to the right rose sharply.

“This is Old Mine Road, which believe it or not is the oldest road in the country,” he said, as they kept driving and she spotted the river again on their left.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded. “This area was rife with copper mines, still is in fact, although they’re no longer mined. The Dutch built this road back in the 1600s and it went all the way up to Kingston, New York. But now it’s part of the park.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“This is one of my favorite places. I’ve been coming here since I was a boy.”

A few minutes later he pulled into a small clearing on the side of the road and she realized they were getting out. As soon as she opened her door, he began reaching for his wheelchair. In less than a minute, as she stood there looking across the road at the wide river, muddy from the earlier rains, he was in his chair and nodding for her to follow. They headed across the road to a grassy path on the embankment about fifteen feet above the river.

It was like stepping into a primeval forest. They walked past the deep woods along the river, with no hint of another human anywhere. The wind kicked up suddenly and the low clouds began to lift and swirl. Another cool front was moving in, and within minutes she could see the high mountains on the Pennsylvania side of the river. The path was worn and rutted in places, but didn’t seem difficult for Colin and she wondered if his was a specific kind of wheelchair to navigate outdoors, although it didn’t look much different than others she’d seen. She made a mental note to ask him another time. Right now, the silence, save for the rush of the river and swish of the wet leaves, was simply beautiful.

After a while, Colin stopped abruptly, pulling his binoculars to his eyes. Without a word, he pointed to a tree on the other side of the river, a huge sycamore, then handed her the binoculars. It took a minute to adjust, then she scanned the tree, branch by branch, spotting nothing, and finally getting dizzy from the magnified leaves rushing by. Then suddenly she saw it, a light spot in the midst of thick green leaves.

“It’s an osprey,” he said softly.

She watched, hoping to see it leave the branch and dive into the river for fish. Just as her arms began to grow trembly from holding up the heavy binoculars, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Colin looking above.

Barely fifty feet overhead, a huge bird soared slowly, its wings stretched wide, riding an air current.

“Oh my God!” she whispered.

“Yup, it’s a bald eagle.”

“I’ve never seen one in the wild before. It’s enormous, and so graceful.”

“They’re one of the largest birds of prey. Its wings can span up to eight feet. In fact, an eagle nest can top a ton or more.”

She held up the binoculars to get a better look, but it was too difficult.

“This place has quite an eagle population.”

“I can see why, it’s so remote. But I thought eagles were rare?”

“They were, bordering on extinction. But tougher conservation guidelines in the seventies really helped them make a comeback.”

A moment later the eagle veered east, over the high treetops and out of sight. Lucy was surprised by the surge of emotion she felt at what she’d just witnessed.

“It’s funny, but seeing the eagle at The Raptor Center was amazing. Seeing it in the wild, soaring so majestically like that…this might sound corny, but thinking about how that creature is the symbol of us, our freedom, it’s really moving, you know?”

He didn’t answer and she looked down at him sitting in his chair. He gave her a little smile and nodded.

“Back in the 1700s, congress wanted the founding fathers to come up with a symbol for the fledgling United States. It took a while, but I think they made the right choice. The bald eagle can be found nowhere else but in North America.”

They stood there in silence.

“Thanks for bringing me here. That alone was worth it,” she said, handing Colin his binoculars again. “I thought it was remote at the lake, but I don’t think I’ve ever been anyplace this isolated. I have to keep reminding myself I’m actually still in New Jersey.”

“Let’s go a little farther.”

It was so still, the only sounds again the occasional splash of rain from the trees as a breeze blew, and of course the different birds in the surrounding forest. Colin whispered their identities each time they heard something new, from the high-pitched scream of a red-tailed hawk to the sharp
jay-jay
screech of a blue jay. Suddenly she heard the most beautiful birdsong coming from the woods, a repetitive warble, long and lilting. Colin stopped.

“That’s a scarlet tanager,” he whispered, and she remembered the gorgeous red bird print.

He cupped his hand and she watched, amazed, as he mimicked the bird’s cry. A few seconds later, the bird in the woods sang again. They did this for several minutes, Colin and the bird echoing each other, the bird sounding closer and closer, until she saw the red flash as the bird flew out of the trees and then back in again.

“How did you know that?”

“My father taught me. Scarlet tanagers are actually pretty easy to imitate and lure out of the woods.”

She laughed. “If you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s not that hard, really. There are other—”

“Colin, look!” She put a hand on his chair, halting him. Just ahead, down the steep slope of the riverbank, she spotted a huge bird, close enough to recognize the white cap and dark body.

Colin pulled his binoculars to his eyes. The bird must have sensed them, because it turned and began to open its wings, then stopped, staring at them.

“You don’t usually see an eagle on the ground unless it’s eating. Otherwise it’s perching, diving, or flying. That bird clearly isn’t eating.” He turned to her. “I don’t have my cell, do you?”

She unzipped the maroon backpack she’d found in the cabin and handed it to him, wondering if it was really possible to get reception there. A moment later, she saw you could.

“Hey Randy, it’s Colin Hardaway. I was on my way in and stopped at Worthington and I’m watching an eagle that I think might be in distress.” He paused a moment, listening, then said, “It’s on the riverbank, close to the water. I think you’d better bring a kayak.”

He handed her the phone then.

“What can we do?”

“Nothing. Just be quiet so we don’t stress it any further, and hopefully the bird stays right where it is and doesn’t venture into the water. If it does it might drown.”

She had so many questions to ask him. She felt helpless just standing there. In the endless minutes waiting for help, she prayed the bird wouldn’t move. Beside her, she imagined Colin was doing the same thing as he sat there in silence.

A SMALL GROUP FROM THE RAPTOR CENTER, led by Randy, one of their medics, and Susan, who was in charge of the education programs, arrived on the scene about forty minutes later, a kayak strapped to the top of their van.

The situation grew tense as they first tried to scale down the river bank, with heavy gloves to their elbows, carrying several large blankets to retrieve the bird. Lucy and Colin inched closer. Her heart broke for the wounded eagle as it backed away and began to thrash once it hit the water, desperately trying to get away from them, its fight or flight instinct in high gear. But it was helpless. After a few minutes, the current caught the bird and it was carried into the river. They could see it struggling, its wings flailing, one horribly crooked. Randy and another man jumped into the kayak and paddled furiously toward the eagle.

“Oh, Colin, I hope they get it before it drowns.”

“It’s not just drowning we have to worry about. Being touched by a human is a major stress on a healthy bird. That alone can kill it,” Colin said softly.

They watched as the kayak closed in on the bird and suddenly Randy tossed the blanket, covering the eagle. He grabbed the ends and they began pulling it back to shore. It was a dangerous mission, for both the men and the eagle, but within minutes the bird was carried to the van by both men, their gloves still on, and they drove off.

When Lucy and Colin arrived at The Raptor Center, Randy informed them that the bird had been examined and had blood drawn.

“It’s got a broken wing, and probably lead poisoning, but we won’t know for sure until we get the lab results.” He then explained that the eagle was safely ensconced in the Quiet Zone, an ICU for birds, on the floor above the infirmary. “As soon as we get a bird assessed, our first course of action is to get it in a warm, dark, quiet place where there’s minimal human contact, so it can begin to calm down,” he explained to Lucy.

“Do you think this bird will make it?”

“I’m not sure. He’s pretty weak, that’s why I’m guessing lead poisoning. He was probably diving for fish and just didn’t make it. The wing break seems pretty fresh.”

“So it’s a he?” Lucy asked.

Randy smiled. “Yes, a he.”

He excused himself then and she and Colin left the infirmary.

“If I hadn’t been with you, I would have had no idea that bird was injured,” she said, as they headed back on the gravel path. “I would have just been thrilled to see an eagle up close.”

“Well, it was a good spot on your part. We might’ve just walked past and not even noticed him in the brush there.”

“I’d like to volunteer, too. Do you think they’d let me?”

“They might just have you wash dishes, or clean cages,” he said with a smile.

“I don’t care,” she said, smiling right back.

“Well, I’ve got to stop in the office. You can ask Susan yourself.”

Susan was delighted at her request, but turned her down, explaining that they needed volunteers who could make long-term commitments, sometimes a year in advance. That was something she just couldn’t do.

She had no idea where she might be a year from now.